Dreaming in Memories
by Misaki Rika
Summary: "Yuuri was standing in the middle of a frozen pond, barefoot, wearing only sweatpants and a t-shirt. Around him, he could hear the joyful cries of encouragement from a female voice and the unmistakable sound of skates gliding over ice. Deep brown eyes watched, mesmerized. Blue eyes caught him, making his breath hitch. "Victor…?" This wasn't possible..." TWO-SHOT Rated for L and V.
1. Victor - Part One

The concept for this story was inspired by a Junjo Romantica fic that I read and I'm embarrassed to say that I don't know which it is. I've looked and can't find it. If you know it or the author please let me know so I can give them the credit they deserve! Thank you!

This is going to be a 2-part story. I hope to be able to upload the second part soon but school is eating up my entire life so I can't make any promises about when it will be ready. I don't have a beta and am kind of a poor self-editor so please forgive any mistakes! Warning: There is some derogatory language against gay individuals in this fic which is why I have given it an M rating. Please be aware as you read.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

 **Dreaming in Memories**

 **Victor - Part One**

Yuuri was standing in the middle of a frozen pond, barefoot, wearing only sweatpants and a t-shirt. Around him, he could hear the joyful cries of encouragement from a female voice and the unmistakable sound of skates gliding over ice. The woman was young and beautiful standing on the edge of the pond, white-blonde hair hanging straight under her wool hat; her eyes a bright and familiar blue.

"You're doing so well, Vitya! You skate so wonderfully!" The skater, a boy of maybe 7 or 8 years old, zipped in front of Yuuri, skates and hands moving in a step sequence with impressive skill and grace especially in one so young. Shoulder length blonde hair, almost silver, swirled around the boy as he jumped, spun, and danced around the ice. Deep brown eyes watched, mesmerized, trying to catch every detail, feet still rooted in place at the center of the pond. Sparkling blue eyes caught him, making his breath hitch.

"Victor…?" He breathed. This wasn't possible. This child couldn't be Victor. Where was this place? Yuuri shook his head sharply to clear it, the reality of his situation crashing around him. "Excuse me!" He yelled, but neither the woman or the boy took notice. He carefully walked towards the woman, dimly realizing that he didn't feel at all cold, and reached out to her. "Excuse me! Where is this?" He was in front of her now but she didn't react, didn't seem to notice he was there. He reached a hand out, intending to tap her shoulder but his finger went through her. "What the…?" He tried again with both hands now but having the same result. Yuuri could feel panic begin to tighten his chest.

Desperately he turned back towards the center of the pond, looking for the boy. As the child came closer, Yuuri lunged at him only to fall through the other body, making no contact. He sat where he had fallen and looked at the other two people, dazed, confused, and scared.

"Beautiful, Vitya! Your мать is so proud!" She was clapping and beaming as the child laughed, joyfully at the praise.

The edges of Yuuri's vision were becoming fuzzy and the sounds of mother and son faded. Yuuri was truly panicking now; what was happening to him? Everything shifted suddenly and then he was inside what looked like a kitchen, standing next to a large man who clearly was completely unaware a young Japanese man has appeared out of nowhere next to him. His shoulders were broad and his arms well-muscled in a way that made Yuuri think this man was some sort of laborer. His hair was a dirty blonde and cropped short, his skin tanned and weathered from years of long days outside. He was, with some difficultly, pouring himself a generous helping of a clear liquid that Yuuri suspected was not water.

A door somewhere opened and the house was filled with loud, happy chatter. The man grunted, clearly irritated, and walked towards the sound glass in hand. Yuuri followed him through the doorway into a living room where he saw the same mother and child as before. The boy was dressed in red and white training gear and holding a large trophy, a wreath of red roses on his blonde head. He ran up to the man, holding the trophy out to him. "Look, look, отец! I won! I came in first!" Blue eyes looked up at his father, a wide grin on the young face, clearly expecting praise.

Yuuri was just as startled as the boy to hear a growl rumble the chest of the older man as his free hand shot out to snatch the roses off the boy's head and fling them across the room. "Men do not wear flowers, Victor!" He shouted, words slightly slurred. "I will not have my son be some sort of pansy! Men should act like men, Alla!" His anger turned from his son to the woman. "You encourage him!"

"Ivan please…" Her tone was calm but her wide eyes revealed her fear. She reached out her slender hands towards her husband hesitantly, obviously unsure how to calm him.

"No Alla! Look what you've done to my son! He's disgusting! Make up on his face, product in his hair." The man spoke with nothing but revulsion dripping from his mouth. "It's so long he looks like a fucking girl!"

"Vitya, darling," The woman kneeled next to her frozen son, her trembling voice as soft and sweet as possible. "Go to your room." She gave him a little push when he didn't move right away. "Go on, Vitya."

Yuuri followed as the crying child ran from the room into the relative safety of his own bedroom. He felt his heart crack as the young Victor, he was sure now that's who this boy had to be, collapsed onto his bed and sobbed. The shouting of his father continued for what felt like hours outside the door until finally it was silent. Victor has long since stopped crying and sitting upright on the furthest corner of his bed, knees drawn to his chest. His fearful eyes were locked onto the door and his shoulders were tense with anticipation.

The doorknob turned and the door was shoved open by Ivan, the glass in his hand replaced by an envelope with Russian currency peeking out; Yuuri recognized it as official winnings from a skating competition. The man stalked over to the boy and leered over him, shaking the fist that gripped the money.

"You will keep winning or no more." He said, his voice deathly low. "You stop winning and that is the end of this shit, understand? You fail and this girly crap is over." He stared down at his son for a few moments, seemly to relish the fear radiating off the boy. "Now clean that shit off your face! You look like a damn fag!"

Yuuri could feel tears streaming down his face, a sob stuck in his throat. "Oh, Victor…" He reached out to the boy, the room around him fading. "No, Victor!" But he was no longer there.

Again, he stood in the center of an ice rink, though this one was much more formal than the pond. He was clearly standing in a training facility and all around him groups of skaters were working. He spun in place, looking for Victor and was surprised to find a much older version of the man. He hair was short and silver, having lost the hints of blonde he had as a child, shoulders broad but he still didn't look very old, maybe 18 or 19. His face still had the barest hint of childhood roundness. This Victor was skating in small warm up circles, away from all the others practicing. Yuuri moved closer to him, his bare feet making no sound on the ice. "Victor…? What memory is this?" As he mumbled it he knew it was true; somehow, he was witnessing Victor's memories.

Blue eyes were downcast, he looked so forlorn, so far away. There was a deep frown etched onto his pale face, one that Yuuri had never seen and it filled him with sadness. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort the man making slow figures in the corner of the rink. He had never seen Victor look so lost, so deeply sad.

"Vitya!" Victor snapped his head up and looked towards the shout. Yuuri saw his sigh as he made eye contact with Yakov, who was standing at the edge of the rink closest to where Victor was skating. With obviously reluctance the he moved over to his coach and Yuuri followed.

"Vitya," Yakov's voice was unusually gentle, drenched with concern. "How is she doing, Vitya? Have you seen her?"

Victor bit his lower lip and looked as though he was holding back tears. His whole body seemed to retreat into itself, his arms wrapping around his torso in what looked like a desperate attempt to keep himself together. Silver hair created a curtain over his face as he gave a small shake of his head. "He won't… He won't let me…" His voice cracked and Yuuri saw a few drops fall to the ice.

"Oh Vitya…" Yakov reached out and pulled Victor to him in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry. It's not right of him to keep you from her." The coaches grip tightened as Victor began to shake with silent sobs. The older man quietly spoke what Yuuri assumed were comforting words in Russian.

"I just… want… want to say… goodbye…" It was so quiet that Yurri almost missed it.

"I know, Vitya." Yakov paused, his brow furrowing with thought. "And you will! I will make sure of it!" He pushed Victor back so he could look into his face. Yuuri had seen the older coach angry before at competitions, at practices but this was different and not just to Yuuri; Victor's eyes went wide and his mouth opened in shock.

"But…but…how?"

The scene was beginning to fade before Yurri's eyes and he frantically tried to will himself to stay. "No! No, not yet!" He tried in vain to grab at the man in front of him. "Victor!" And he was gone.

Yuuri sank to the floor of some kind of hotel ballroom. He breath something in quick gasps as he tried to calm himself, his mind working to process the last scene of Victor's life he had seen. A voice, his own voice, snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Fine! I challenge you, Yuri! Dance off!" He saw himself about ten feet away, surrounded by other skaters and very, very drunk.

"Oh no…" This was the banquet. _The_ banquet. "Do I really have to see this?" He groaned as he watched himself forcefully drag Yuri to the dance floor, humiliation distracting him from the distress of his last vision. His other self removed his tie and he began to move around Yuri. The music changed from the quiet, classical to something with a deep, resonating beat; Yuuri suspected Chris to be responsible. It pulsed through the room, altering the mood of everyone in it; some were scandalized but most were pleased with the spark that livened up what could otherwise be a dull event. The sounds were sensual with an edge.

Yuuri watched himself in embarrassed fascination; the skills he gained from those hip-hip classes Minako insisted he take on full display. He and Yuri danced around each other, trying to out-do each other's movements. Yuri was showing off his flexibility, bending and flexing, showing off his ballet-esque physique. Yuuri on the other hand, had his strength on full display, rotating his body on a single arm, twisting himself in every direction. As the song came to an end he executed a head spin, legs parted to keep his balance, his victory in the dance off assured. Yuuri rubbed his neck as he observed this, "So that's why my neck hurt for the next couple days…" He looked around as the two competitors bickered their way off the dance floor while Victor and Chris took a few last photos.

The music changed again, taking on a Latin flare. Yuuri saw himself swaying to it and knew from others' recounting of the night that his humiliation was far from over. The other him moved unsteadily up to Victor and extended his hand. "Am I your next competitor, Yuuri?" Victor's voice was filled with amusement as he smiled at the still very drunk Japanese man.

"No," Yuuri's voice was deep and husky, the small slurring of his words largely unnoticeable. Victor's eyes widened and a sly smirk played on Yuuri's lips. "You're my prize." Victor was pulled onto the dance floor and deposited several feet away from where the other man now stood. Yuuri's wrists snapped into a flamingo styled pose, eyes flashing a challenge to the Russian standing across from him. Blue eyes looked surprised for a moment before sparking with excitement, his own arms moving to match Yuuri's position. They moved, mirroring each other until they came together. Yuuri's breathe caught in his throat as he watched. "We're beautiful…" The pure delight pouring out of the couple as they danced. All too soon the song ended and Yuuri thought he saw disappointment in Victor's face, even if his drunken other self didn't.

"My turn!" Chris purred into Yuuri's ear and tore him away from Victor and towards a pole in the center of the room.

"Oh god… No, no, no, no, no…" Yuuri knew what was coming and he really didn't want to see it. He moved to where Victor was standing with Yuri and J.J., watching the newest spectacle that was being created, trying to ignore himself as he began to strip.

"Who knew the fatso had it in him?" Yuri was grumbling, the disgust he was trying to portray not quite ringing true.

"You're just upset that you lost!" J.J. laughed. "He totally out classed you, Princess!"

"Now, now Yuri!" Victor cut off what would probably a string of expletives from the teenager. "You have to admit that Japanese Yuuri put on quite the performance!"

Yuri scoffed but paused, giving Victor all the answer he needed before Yuri smirked up at him. "You're just smitten with the fatso, aren't you Victor? The little piggy charmed you, huh?"

Instead of the embarrassed denial he was expecting, Victor blushed and gave a small smile. "You know Yuri, I think you may be right. I may even be in love." A blue eye winked at the younger man in an attempt to make it seem like more of a joke than the words sounded.

Yuuri stared, shocked. A hand slipped through Victor's shoulder, the need to touch the man overriding the knowledge that he was a phantom. As the room faded around him, he smiled; maybe this evening wasn't as horrible and embarrassing as he thought.

Ok, there is part one! I will try and get the next part up as soon as possible! Please review and let me know what you think! Thanks!


	2. Victor - Part Two

So here is the overdue part 2! Please be warned that language warning applies to this chapter too and there is some violence. If you are sensitive to such things please read with caution. Enjoy!

~~~~.~~~~.~~~~

 **Part 2**

It was quiet and grey all around him. He was standing next to a brown box… no, a coffin, covered in flowers. Looking up he saw a sea of black, the faces downcast. His gaze fell on Victor, surrounded but somehow looking so alone. Yuuri heard a man, the priest, begin the funeral rites but he could not take his eyes off Victor. He looked so tragically handsome in his black suit and tie, his silver hair slicked away from his face, gloved hands clutching a bouquet of lilies. He looked younger again, in his late teens. His blue eyes were wide and lost, staring blankly at the 6-foot hole already dug into the ground. A hand came into view and wrapped itself around Victor's shoulders, Yakov's, Yuuri hadn't noticed the shorter man there.

The appearance of Yakov shook Yuuri out of his own vacant stare. He looked around the circle of mourners for familiar faces pausing when he recognized one, Ivan. The man was standing as far away from his son as possible, his lip curling in disgust every time he glanced towards Victor. Yuuri fist clenched in anger as he looked at the man his own disgust coloring his face. He quickly shook it off and continued to move around the grave, trying to find Alla, Victor's mother. But… she wasn't there…? No…

The full realization of where he was hit Yuuri and he brought his hands to his face. "This is her funeral… Victor's mother is…" Yuuri moved back to Victor and tried to place his hand on the young man only to have it fall through him. Tears were now streaming out of the blue eyes, teeth biting down on his lower lip. Yuuri could do nothing, nothing but watch as the priest finished the funeral and the coffin was lowered into the grave. He started to cry as Victor moved forward and dropped the flowers into the hole and hear to soft plop when they landed. He stood and stared at Victor as the young man stood by the grave and seemingly unable to move away.

"You can go now." Ivan's voice was thick with emotion and alcohol.

Victor looked up at his father as if he wasn't sure who the man was, tears were still falling unchecked from Victor's eyes. He turned back to his mother's grave and blew a small kiss down to her before moving away, back towards where Yakov was waiting for him, eyes downcast.

"Real men don't cry, faggot." Victor paused at the unprovoked attack from his father, eyes still fixed on the ground. Yuuri inhaled sharply when he saw the gloved hand form a fist and shoulders snap with tension, worried about what was going to happen.

"Vitya?" Yakov called out, breaking the tension and Victor continued towards him, never looking at his father. Yuuri's vision became fuzzy and the retreating back of Victor faded from his view.

The light in the café he was now standing in was soft, peaceful and slightly romantic. Snow was floating down outside the large front windows, sparkling in the twilight. The people inside were quietly chatting as a pianist played on a stage in one corner. Yuuri let his head fall into his hands, the abrupt changes in scenery wearing on his nerves, overwhelming and exhausting him; the haunted, lost look he had just seen in Victor's eye still shaking him. He took a few breaths to steady himself, "Ok, now, where am I?"

It took him a few moments to finally spot Victor, sitting in a secluded corned sipping on tea. Yuuri moved towards him, guessing that this Victor was maybe 15. His shoulders were still narrow and his frame slight; his silver hair was in a long, low ponytail. He was sipping on tea and quietly conversing with another boy that looked to be about the same age.

"I still can't believe you won by so much!" The other boy said in a quiet, intimate tone. "They all kept saying that the Juniors were supposed to be stacked this year but you proved them wrong!" His hazel eyes looked at Victor with adoration, practically beaming. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Young Victor blushed and looked down at his tea, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "You weren't that far behind me, Alexi! And you have so much more power behind your movements than I do! It's breathtaking…" Victor trailed off as the other boy's fingers reached out to curl around his.

"You're breathtaking, Vitya." Alexi's other hand brushed a silver flyaway from Victor's cheek. "I like you, I like you a lot. I want to spend more time with you, and not just as friends…" He paused and looked down, anxiety pulsing off of him. "Is… Is that ok, Victor?"

"I'd like that, Alexi." Victor's smile was radiant, he cheeks tinted with pink. "I… I like you a lot, too." Yuuri was smiling softly as the young couple disappeared.

Yuuri glanced around at his new surroundings; he was standing in the entryway to the apartment. _Their_ apartment. Music filled it the air, floating around the room. It was a classical cello piece, Bach if Yuuri was placing it correctly. The couch and chairs in the living room were all pushed out of the way and Victor stood in the middle of the space, a full-length mirror propped up so that he could see his movements. He was facing away from the door, a pad in his hand, the remote for the stereo in the other. He was creating choreography, new choreography. Yuuri watched him moved and flow, his body emulating the deep tones of the music as if he himself were the instrument.

"Wait… I remember this…" Yuuri's eyes darted towards the clock above the T.V. and then turned to face the door just as the lock clicked and it opened.

"I'm home, Vict…" The other Yuuri's voice trailed off at he caught sight of Victor dancing. Eyes wide, he quietly closed the door and set the bag he was carrying down softly. He lifted a finger to his lips to hush Makkachin as he sat down on the tiled floor to watch.

Yuuri recalled, vividly what he had been thinking that day as he sat there and witnessed Victor being lost and absorbed by his creative process, by the movements and music. He had felt awed to be able to gaze at this private moment; that he, average, dorky, awkward Yuuri Katsuki was the person that was chosen. That he was the one that had slipped past the mask of Victor's public persona and got to see him, the real him; the him that wasn't trying to put on a show or shock anyone. Yuuri got to see Victor angry, content, giddy, but most precious of all, Yuuri saw him quiet, soft, beautiful.

Yuuri still couldn't understand why he was the one, the person that Victor had chosen. Why Victor wanted him. Why Victor thought he was special. Why Victor loved him but on that day, sitting on the cold tile, his butt slowly becoming numb, he realized, if only for a second, that the "whys" didn't really matter. Victor loved him. This gorgeous man loved him. And as Yuuri watched him repeating variations of the same step, trying to get something that wasn't working to click, his chest filled with warmth, he loved him with everything he had. A soft smile appeared on his face as the frustration grew on Victor's which culminated with him throwing the notebook down and aggressively shutting off the music.

Yuuri watched himself chuckle and picked himself off the floor and walked over to the other man. He wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders from behind, toes elevating slightly so he could plant a kiss on the edge of the silver hairline.

"When did you get home?" His voice was calm, the tension leaching out of him as he leaned back into Yuuri's embrace.

"A little while ago. I didn't want to disturb you."

Victor let out a small huff. "There wasn't much to disturb. This program is not coming together how I want it! I just can't get this transition…"

Yuuri interrupted him with another kiss on the back of his neck. "You were beautiful, Vitya." He turned Victor around to face him and pulled the taller man down for a light, lingering kiss. "It is already breathtaking…"

Victor let out a contented hum and kissed Yuuri again with more firmly, hands wrapping around his waist to pull his lover even closer. The kissing became more passionate, the touches more urgent.

Yuuri smiled at himself. He was never this bold, open with anyone else. He remembered how this afternoon had gone: the passion flowed and became joyful. They had laughed and joked together in bed, even as hands and lips worked their way over naked skin. He remembered the feelings of complete and total happiness as the two bodies merged, as he heard Victor chanting his name when their passion reached its height. He could almost still feel the way Victor had slowly, lovingly traced the lines of his muscles and whispered adorations, hot breath tickling his ear. He smiled at the recollection of his hand trailing Victor's side, causing the man to giggle as a ticklish spot was stroked. It sparked a war of fingers and breathless laughter, only ending when Yuuri had pinned Victor beneath him. A quick kiss on soft lips brought heated passion to the surface and they made love again.

They finally got out of bed to feed poor Makkachin, who had begun to whine and scratch on the door. They ate their own dinner, watched something on the T.V. while snuggled on the couch, and then they went to sleep in each other's arms, the last words spoken that day were of their love for the other. Yuuri's sight grew began to shift as he gazed at the sleeping couple. It had been as close to perfection as any day could be.

When his vision refocused, he was standing in Victor's childhood home again; the yelling starkly contrasting the peaceful place he had just left. He groaned, wondering when this would end, when he could stop being flung from one memory to another.

"…it's staying long! It needs to for this performance!" Teenaged Victor stomped through the living room in front of the invisible Yuuri, rage clearly visible in those blue eyes. He was a teen again, wearing a track suit, looking like he had just come from the ice rink.

A growl preceded the hand that snapped out and grabbed Victor's shoulder. "You little shit…" Ivan's fist clutched the front of his son's sweatshirt, jerking the younger man's torso upward, farcing his face to face with his father. "You will cut your hair. I will not have a son of mine looking like a little faggot!" The last word was screamed, leaving a couple drops of spit on Victor's pale cheek.

The teen struggled against his father's hand for a moment, his teeth clenched in anger, before he froze. A thought has entered his mind and it brought a smirk to his lips. "You want me to win, don't you? You want the winnings, don't you? Winning the Junior Grand Prix comes with a large prize." He paused, waiting for his father's reply. The fist holding his shirt shook, his father's increasing rage the answer he was expecting. "Then the hair stays long. This skate needs it, it needs it to win."

Ivan shoved his son away from him, fury etched into his face. "It better…" He stomped away, flipping a chair on his way out.

"You'll get your money, bastard…"

Everything shifted before Yuuri's eyes but when the world righted itself he was standing in the same stop in Victor's living room. He looked around the empty room confused; was this a new memory…?

There was a pounding on the door accompanied by muffled yelling that continued for several minutes before steps from down the hall finally moved to answer it. Ivan appeared from around the corner into the living room but he looked much different than he had in Yuuri's last vision. He was thinner, pale, dark circles marred the area under his eyes. Yuuri couldn't quite make out what the man was grumbling as he opened the door.

"Finally, Ivan!" Yakov's voice thundered through the house. "Out of the way! Your son is here to see his mother!"

"No." Ivan's voice was tired, drained, but still carried an edge if malice. "That disgusting fag is not allowed in this house." Yuuri flinched at the monotoned delivery of the hateful words.

"Ivan!" Yakov clearly had no patience. "Does a boy scare you so much? Get out of the way and stop this pathetic behavior. Your wife needs to see her son. Be a man and provide what your wife needs." He sounded as if he was scolding a child, a stupid child.

Ivan stood there, head hung, hands formed into fists. Yuuri could see the internal struggle; the man clearly cared for his wife and wanted to give her this, he knew it would make her happy, but he hated who his son had decided to become. "You have 10 minutes," He said gruffly, stepping aside to let them in.

Yakov huffed at the larger man as he stepped inside, clearly still displease with him. Victor kept his head down as he entered, arms holding himself with a look of anxious despair on his face. He was wearing a thick jacket to ward against the Russian winter over his training clothes and a deep, navy hat covered his head. He looked so small to Yuuri, as if his own body was eating itself. He continued towards the hallway, steps becoming faster as he approached the room at the end of the hall. He knocked softly before going in.

"Ivan? Who was…?" The soft, weak voice paused. "Vitya? Oh, my darling boy!" Alla struggled to sit up, arms reaching towards her son.

Victor quickly moved to help her, tears already tracking his cheeks. "Mama!" He sobbed quietly as they embraced. "Oh Mama! I'm so sorry! I'm so…!"

Alla hushed him quietly, tears flowing out of her own eyes. "None of that, my Vitya. None of that. You have no reason to be sorry."

"But I'm… If I wasn't… then…."

"No, no darling. You are my perfect boy, that has never changed, no matter what. God made you my perfect, beautiful boy." She pulled back slightly and cupped her son's face between her pale hands, the two sets of blue eyes staring intently at one another. "You are going to meet an amazing man, a man that will surprise you and sweep you off your feet. You will love each other with everything and have a beautiful life. Perhaps one day you'll find a child that needs a home and you two will be parents. You will watch your child grow and you and your husband will hold their hand and help them take their first steps on the ice, just like I did for you. And through all of it, my sweet Vitya, I will be watching. I have always been watching." She clutched him to her again, "You skate so beautifully. Your мать is so proud of you! Of the incredible person you have become!"

"I love you, мать!" Victor's voice cracked, horse with emotion.

"I love you, my beautiful Vitya. Your мать has missed you so much." Her voice sounded strained and Yuuri could see her arms were shaking slightly.

"Mama? Are you ok?"

"Just tired darling, I'm always so tired these days…"

Victor bit his lip as he helped his mother to lay back down. "Mama…?"

"It's ok, my darling. I know there is much that wants to be said if only the words would form." She turned her head back towards him, tears soaking the pillow beneath her. "Goodbyes are never easy, are they, my Vitya?"

Victor tried several times to respond, mouth opening and closing, before he gave up and laid his forehead onto his mother's chest and sobbed. Their hands found each other and gripped tightly as they cried together.

It took Yuuri several minutes to realize he had changed locations, his shoulders still shaking with his own crying. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself as he tried to figure out where he was. It looked like a hotel room not unlike the one he and Victor had stayed in during their first Grand Prix together. He heard two voices laughing and turned to see Victor and Chris sitting on the queen size bed, a bottle of wine between them.

"I never would have thought he had it in him!" Chris was saying, delight and surprise mixing together in his voice. "Who'd have thought shy and timid Yuuri Katsuki could sweep you, Mr. Playboy Nikiforov himself, off his feet so completely!" His voice dipped into a purr, "He must have wonderful stamina _off_ the ice as well!"

Yuuri gasped in embarrassment, cheeks instantly flaming; they were talking about _him_?!

"No! Well, I mean yes, he does, but that's not it!" Victor took a large gulp from his glass. "It's not his sex appeal, well not _just_ that. He sees me Chris! Me! The real me and he's not disappointed. I think he even prefers it! And he's so kind and tender and sweet and…"

"Man…" Chris breathed, his tone quiet and serious. "You got it bad. You love him."

Victor's eyes went wide for a moment before becoming thoughtful. "I do… I think I fell in love with him when he drunkenly pulled me into a tango at that banquet!" He took another, slow sip from his wine glass, his face softening into an expression Yuuri couldn't place. "He's so beautiful, Chris. He is the most beautiful person I've ever met. It feels like he has brought light into my life again, reminded me there is more than skating. He's given me Life and Love… It's overwhelming. I've ignored everything except skating for so long but now…"

"Love is often overwhelming but I can't think of anyone else more deserving of it than you. You've had far too little love in your life, mon amie. When Alla died I was so afraid for you…" Chris reached out to hold Victor's much paler hand, squeezing it tightly in support.

Blues eyes stared at their joined hands for a few moments before replying softly, "I was afraid too. She was my everything. I skated for her, because it was our special connection, something Ivan couldn't taint or take away. I love surprising everyone, but especially her. I wanted to make her happy when I skated, even when I couldn't be with her anymore…"

"You mean, when Ivan… When you were a teenager…?"

"When he pushed me out in the snow, out of my home?!" Victor's voice was rough and bitter.

"You never talk about it, you've never really told me what happened."

"He found out, someone had told him that they had seen me and Alexi kissing. I came home and he was drunk as usual but there was something different…"

Yuuri shifted and he could see it as Victor described the scene to Chris. A young, teenaged Victor coming home, snow sticking to him. "I'm home! Mama?" He calls into the dark house, sheading his coat and boots. "Hello?"

A glass was thrown and shattered on the wall next to him, causing him to let out a startled cry. "You disgusting little shit…" The words were a slurred, growl. "You, nasty little pervert!" A large calloused hand snatched the long, silver hair, pulling the boy off his feet, backhanding him across the face.

"Ivan! Ivan, stop!" His mother was there, trying to get this man he had long ago stopped thinking of as his father, to let him go. "Don't hurt him, Ivan! Don't hurt our son!"

"He is no son of mine! He's not even human!" He shook the hand holding Victor's hair. "He's a damn faggot! He's an abomination! Oleg saw him kissing a boy! I will not have it!" He threw the teen against the wall and watched coldly as the boy yelped in pain, hands sliced on the broken glass. The large man began undoing his belt, pulling it out of its loops.

"No! No, Ivan, please!" Alla put herself in between her husband and her son, arms spread wide, tearful eyes pleading. "Don't hurt him! Please don't hurt him!"

"Get out of my way!" He tried to push the small woman out of the way but she clung to his arm. He lashed out regardless, his strength too much for her. The belt buckle caught Victor on the face, right above the eye.

"Go! Go, go, Vitya! Run!" His mother was sobbing, using everything she had to cling to Ivan, trying to hold him back. "Run, run, Vitya!"

He scrambled to his feet and threw himself out the door. He could still hear his father's yelling and his mother's sobbing as he ran. His shoeless feet soaked and frozen, blood freezing on his hands and face, his body shaking. On instinct he ran the path most familiar to him, the one he took every day. He threw the doors to the ice rink open with strength he didn't think he still had and fell inside. His body convulsing with cold and emotion.

"What the…? Oh god! Vitya!" Yakov was suddenly there, wrapping Victor in a coat, holding him close to bring heat back to the boy. "Vitya! What happened? Vitya!"

Victor couldn't bring himself to answer, he couldn't do anything but hold onto his coach, the man who was more of a father to him than anyone, and let out a gut-wrenching cry. "Oh, my Vitya…" The gruff voice was far more paternal than Yuuri had ever heard it and the older man's face held nothing but heartbreak. He held the boy, his boy, for hours as the hysterical sobs finally gave way to broken, quiet crying, until Victor fell into an exhausted sleep.

Yuuri had fallen to his knees at some point, his being racked with pain, his face and neck soaked with tears. "No, no, no…" He whispered. "No more! I c-c-can't!" He curled into himself, his own cries becoming borderline hysterics. "Victor…. Victor…" His body was shaking uncontrollably and everything was becoming bright behind his eyes. He was laying on his back somehow…

"Yuuri! Yuuri, love, wake up!"

Yuuri moaned as he opened his eyes, his vision filled with that familiar blue. "Victor? Oh, Victor!" His arms shot out to pull the other man to him, partly relieved he could finally touch again. "I'm so sorry, Victor! I'm s-sor-sorr-…" He choked as he gave into tears. He shoved his face into his favorite spot where Victor's neck met his chest, seeking any form of comfort he could get.

"Yuuri! Lyubov moya! It was a nightmare! Everything is ok, love!" Victor sat up and pulled the smaller man with him, curling him further into his chest. He cooed soothing words in Russian, English, and even a little Japanese, encouraging calm within his husband until the tears slowed. "Now, lapochka, what happened? What made you so upset?" Victor brushed away the tears clinging to his cheeks as he looked into his deep, brown eyes.

"I-I…" Yuuri bit his lip, not sure how to explain. "I saw you, your childhood with your mother, us at the banquet, you and Alexi, visiting your mother on her deathbed, her funeral, Ivan throwing you out…" He stopped at Victor's sharp intake of breath. "You've told me, about all of this but seeing it… It was… It was so awful!" Yuuri's eyes were filling with tears again.

"Hush, hush, lyubov moya. It's ok now." Nimble fingered brushed through black hair, stroking the ears lightly, knowing from experience how comforting Yuuri found it. "Everything is ok now."

"But he was… he was so awful! I didn't understand when you told me your father kicked you out when you were 17, I couldn't imagine…" Gentle fingers brushed the barely visible scar above Victor's right eye. "That shouldn't have happened…"

Victor sighed. He didn't understand how Yuuri could have seen all this, how a dream could have shown him these portions of Victor's life but that wasn't important right now; Yuuri was important. "No, it shouldn't have but it's ok now. I promise!" He exclaimed as Yuuri shook his head. "I'm ok. It was horrible but it was a long time ago and it made me into the person you love. It made me into the person who gets to love you." He smiled at the man in his arms and kissed him several times all over his face until he saw a ghost of a smile on his husband's face. "If any of it had not happened, we may not be here like this now. Having you makes it all worth it."

Yuuri blushed slightly as the corners of his mouth twitched up in a genuine smile. Victor loved that even after 5 years together, he could still make his beautiful husband's cheeks turn pink. They continued to hold each other close as Yuuri softly told Victor what he had seen in more detail. When he was done and his lips stopped moving they were met with a deep but chaste kiss.

"There is no one else, my Yuuri. There is no one else I have ever wanted to see me so clearly." He held Yuuri's face between his long fingers. "I am glad you saw, I am happy you see me. I love you so much, Yuuri." Their lips met again, trying to convey emotions physically that words were failing to express.

"I love you, Vitya." His trailed his fingers into Victor's hair, wanting to feel as much of him as possible.

"Oh Yuuri…" Victor breathed, resting his forehead onto him husband's. The peaceful moment was ruined by a loud gurgle from Victor's stomach which started a laugh out of Yuuri.

"Hungry, Vic-chan?" Yuuri cast Victor an amused, fond look.

"Yes." Victor said, slightly sheepishly. "But I brought home take out!" He untangled himself from Yuuri's legs and got up to show the discarded to-go bag. "From that curry place you love!" He flashed one of his special smiles, the one that was only for Yuuri.

The Japanese man perked up at the mention of the food. "Did you get samosa?" He asked excitedly as he also got up.

"Of course!" Victor linked their arms as he led Yuuri to the table, feeling lighter for the emotional afternoon. His past may have had its darkness but his future was bright. His future was full of Yuuri.

~~~~.~~~~.~~~~

That's it! I hope you all enjoyed it! I imagined Victor to have some tragedy in his past because he can be so closed off and seems to put on a front much of the time, except with Yuuri of course 😊

I did have some issues with how to end it. I don't know if I'm happy with it but it is what it is. Please let me know what you all think! Thanks for reading!


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